Nothing Much to Say

(I)

The world seems cruel
in the face of
pain.
A suffocation of
silences.
When if we tried to
speak
we would
scream,
then we are silent.
When what we feel
fills our
throat
then we are
silent.
When what we should
feel
is not what we
do feel,
then we are
silent.
When we don't feel
and we don't
know how
then we are
silent.

People die curled around
their pain
unable to say
what hurts.
We cannot find the
words
to make it
right.
Helpless to help,
we turn away.

Nothing much to say...

(II)

When an artist dies
what can you
say
to equal the
art
that's gone
out of the world?

(III)

Rub someone's
shoulders.
Drink gingerale. Eat
pizza.
Make more art.

What else can you do?

In honor of Boyd McLaughlin 11/3/95
And all of the others. 10/20/97
This page has been created as a memorial to all people who have died
while homeless, faceless and invisible. The following Guestbook is
provided for you to enter the name and the story of anyone to be
remembered. The names will be read at the yearly St. Martin de Porres
service in Seattle, at the Day of the Dead ceremonies in Seattle, and in
other cities.

Honor our dead.

And honor our living.

If you visit this page, please take a moment to pray, in whatever your
own faith or ceremony,
that no-one will ever die homeless again.

Boyd McLaughlin died on November 2, 1995 at the age of forty-four.

Boyd came into Seattle's StreetLife Gallery, "the home of homeless art",
fresh off a greyhound from Montana. He was trying to get off of cocaine
and turn his life around; he threw his life into the Gallery.

In a year Boyd went from homeless and searching to housed and working as
a
prolific, self-taught artist offering inspiration, instruction, love and
generosity to hundreds of artists walking in off the street looking to
the
Gallery for healing themselves.

He was at the Gallery eight or more hours a day, seven days a week, and
the service providers who managed the Gallery at that time became
concerned about him. They insisted that the Gallery close two days a
week, Wednesday and Thursday, so that Boyd would have some time to
himself.

Within two months, Boyd was dead. On a Thursday night.

It may be circumstantial, or not. But please hesitate the next time you
want to decide for someone else what is best for them.

P.S. The StreetLife Gallery is now under self-management and open seven
days a week.